Hugh and Alice arrived the day before Gerald came back: Alice was profuse in her congratulations. ‘Just think, Hellie, you’ll outrank Mother – how delicious! Oh why did I make do with a boring old barrister instead of waiting for a dashing cavalry officer to sweep me off my feet and carry me away on his black charger – straight to his ironstone quarries in Northants! Oh, you are lucky!’
Hugh stood behind her, looking very serious; I hoped that Alice’s careless words had not hurt him.
In the drawing room later he drew me on one side. ‘Forgive my asking, Helena, but are you in love with Prescott?’ I stared at him in amazement and he reddened. ‘I mean – you didn’t accept him just because you were flattered – an older man, distinguished war record, title and all that?’
I was deeply wounded. How could Hugh accuse me of such a thing? ‘I fell in love with him the first time I ever saw him, when I was only fifteen. And I’ve never changed since.’
Hugh’s face was scarlet now. He patted my shoulder awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry, Hellie old girl, I suppose I shouldn’t have asked that, only – you’re so young and innocent, and well, I’m dashed fond of you, you know – I do want you to be happy.’
My face was glowing as I raised it to him. ‘I will be, Hugh, I will be.’
That afternoon I wandered out into the garden, dreaming of Gerald. Without thinking I found myself outside the entrance to the maze. I stopped abruptly – I had scarcely been inside it since that summer evening which had resulted in my being sent to Munich; I certainly did not want to go in now. How badly I had behaved that night, and how thankful I was now that Mother had arrived when she did. I remembered Conan’s searching hands and probing tongue and trembled. I loved Gerald, I was betrothed to him – yet we had not even kissed. Our love was pure and spiritual, not a greedy, thoughtless, tangling of bodies.
The next day Gerald arrived back only just in time for dinner. I had lingered downstairs as long as I could but Alice finally chased me up to dress with a laughing, ‘You want to look your best, Hellie,’ and of course I did. When Liliane had piled my hair up high I peered into the mirror and thought it made my neck look longer than ever, so I suddenly tugged it down and told her to dress it low at the back instead. Her fingers moved swiftly but the second bell had sounded before I flew downstairs, and I only had time for a brief greeting before we went in to dinner. At the table he talked of his journey, and asked if I had been singing while he was away. I remembered my excursion to Ainsclough and became tongue-tied – I barely stammered a reply. Mother glared at me and asked him his plans for hunting next season, Alice chipped in and the conversation became general. I sat back in relief and watched him; he looked very pale and tired.
After dinner my brothers and Papa quickly joined us, but Hugh and Gerald stayed on in the dining room. I hung around the tea tray, fiddling with the tea spoons, until Mother told me sharply to sit down. When Gerald finally came in with my brother-in-law I felt so shy I scarcely dared glance at him, but I saw Hugh nod in my direction before he moved over to Alice. Gerald marched straight across the room to me, his face very determined. My heart thumped.
‘Helena, it’s such a fine evening – would you care for a stroll on the terrace?’ Without a word I stood up and took his proferred arm. We stepped out of the long window and into the balmy night air. A shaft of light shone out from the house behind us and I risked a glance up at him: his mouth was tightly set and he was staring grimly ahead. My stomach lurched; what had he and Hugh been talking about for so long? Why had Hugh questioned me? And where had he been this past week? I had never seen him with a woman in Society but there were other women – men became entangled with them – the twins had dropped hints about Guy. A black wave of jealousy engulfed me, my chest heaved and I gripped his arm and dragged him to a halt. He turned, startled. In a voice that was ragged with fear I demanded, ‘Lord Gerald – you must tell me – is there, is there another woman in your life?’
For a long moment we stood facing each other; my heart seemed to stop beating. Then he said, very gently, ‘No, Helena – I can assure you of that. There is not, and never has been, any woman but you. And there never will be.’ His voice was completely decided. My knees gave way and I threw myself against him, clinging to him, burying my hot face in his shirtfront. His strong arm supported me as he gently stroked my hair in the dark garden. I began to cry. ‘No tears, sweet Helena, no tears. Come, it’s time I kissed you.’ Slowly I raised my face and his soft lips pressed against mine. Then he drew back his head and said, ‘I will be a true and loving husband to you, Helena, I promise.’
As he spoke the crescent moon shone in the black velvet sky and carved his face in ivory. ‘Hold out your hand, my love.’ The Prescott betrothal ring slipped easily over my knuckle. I raised myself on tiptoe and kissed his cheek in thanks, and knew I would love him forever.
The next morning Alice and Hugh were moving on to Yorkshire, leaving Hugo and William behind at Hatton. Nanny brought the children down to see them off; William stomped out and climbed on to the running board, saying, ‘Me go on train – me and ’Ugo and Nanny on train.’
Alice was impatient. ‘Oh, don’t be such a silly boy, you can’t possibly come with us.’
His small face crumpled and Gerald spoke quickly, ‘Lady Alice, Helena and I could escort them to Manchester, and see you on to the York express, if you’re agreeable.’
William, scenting success, ran to Gerald and wrapped his short arms round his long leg. My heart turned over when I saw the expression on Gerald’s face as he looked down at the child. I called to my sister, ‘Yes Alice, we’ll come with you to Manchester. Nanny, I’ll ring for your hat and coat – there’s plenty of time.’
Nanny grumbled a little at the hustle but I could see she was pleased at the idea of an outing with Gerald and myself.
We waved Alice and Hugh off at Victoria. Hugo gazed wistfully after his father’s diminishing hand and William’s lower lip trembled ominously. Gerald squatted down beside him. ‘I say, old man, how about coming and having a look at one of those engines – you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
William’s mouth became a round O. ‘Yes please, sir.’ Hugo was eager.
I glanced across at Nanny. She said automatically, ‘Nasty smelly things,’ but there was a beatific smile on her face as she looked at Gerald. I could see that the nursery at Bessingdon was enlarging before her eyes.
Gerald led us down the platform to a waiting black monster. The driver was agreeable so Hugo scrambled up the side like a monkey; behind him Gerald swung William safely up into the strong hands of the young fireman, seized the rail, and climbed lithely up on to the footplate. High-pitched boys’ questions received rumbling replies. I reached out a hand to stroke the burnished steel hand rail and Nanny said, ‘Don’t touch, my lady – you’ll dirty your nice clean gloves.’ To tease her I simply peeled them off and clasped the shining rail with my bare hand. Gerald’s sapphire blazed blue fire in a shaft of sunlight. I gazed at it, smiling to myself.
A voice spoke above my head. ‘I enjoyed your singing – at Ainsclough last week.’ My head jerked up; as the grimy seamed face of the engine driver smiled down at me, my face flamed.
Nanny was peering anxiously up at the chimney. ‘Just look at those nasty black smuts – do take care, my lady.’ My title seemed to ring out, and I saw behind the driver’s head the broad, sweat-streaked face of the fireman; his blue eyes were alight and his mouth was one wide white grin. They both glanced down at the winking sapphire on my left hand, then the driver gestured over his shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry lass – us’ll not let cat out o’ bag.’ He ducked back into the cab and I was left for a moment looking into the young fireman’s blue eyes, then he winked and turned away. I stood, taking deep breaths, trying to cool my burning cheeks as Nanny chattered on.
Gerald climbed down first, guiding Hugo. The fireman vaulted on to the platform after them, held up his brawny arms for William and swung him safely down in turn. Gerald reached into his pocket; there was the clink of coins and the fireman’s large fist closed round the silver; with a ‘Thank you, sir’ and a touch of his cap he sprang back on to his engine.
Hugo and William chattered on to Gerald about fire boxes and brick arches as we walked up the platform; I felt a giggle welling up inside me – Miss Nellie Girvan had been exposed, by a grimy-faced engine driver! I could hardly wait to tell the twins – how they would laugh.
On the train back to Hareford, Gerald lifted William up on to the seat and held him firmly, so that he could look out of the window. William pointed at the horses in the streets and the cows in the fields, and asked endless, repetitive questions. Gerald painstakingly answered every one, until Nanny leant forward and said to said to me in a loud whisper, ‘There’s not many gentlemen have the patience of my lord here when it comes to the nursery.’ I saw the pink flush rise in Gerald’s fair skin as his arm steadied William’s chubby body. Perhaps by this time next year? A matching blush rose in my throat.
That evening after dinner Gerald led me into the music room again. ‘Sing for me, Helena,’ he commanded. I went gladly to the piano and my fingers began to move over the keys. Without thinking I found myself playing the opening bars of ‘Gretchen am Spinnrad’. I sang as the girl enslaved by her love for Faust, whose peace had been destroyed because she cared only for him. And the passion, the burning desire of Gretchen swept through me as I sang of the touch of his hand, and his kiss. My eyes were fixed on the man sitting opposite me, my body was heavy with longing:
‘An seinen Kussen
Vergehen sollt!’
Under his kisses I should die. My heart beat hot in my breast as I sang the last stanza:
‘Mein Ruh ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.’
As I struck the last note I stood up and moved towards him, my hands outstretched. He was on his feet at once. He spoke lightly. ‘Dear me, Helena, how dramatic you are – we’ll have you singing Brunnhilde next!’
I stopped, suddenly, feeling very foolish; my arms dropped to my sides. He circled round me towards the piano. ‘Perhaps I could persuade you to accompany me, now. Let’s see, have you the music for “Where’er you walk?”’
I felt dull and heavy. ‘I can play that from memory.’
‘I think I would like the score, though – perhaps you would look?’
I went to the shelves and began to search. I was glad my back was to him. When I found Handel’s ‘Semele’ I carried it over to the piano. ‘It’s my copy, for a soprano…’
‘That will do for me too.’ So he was a tenor. I had not known, but there were so many things about him I did not know. I began to play.
As his light, pleasant tenor sang: ‘Where’er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glades,’ my own hot cheeks were cooled, and my heaviness began to ease a little. ‘And all things flourish, where’er you turn your eyes,’ and his own eyes seemed to smile at me in love and forgiveness.
After I had played the final bars I let my hands drop to rest on my lap. ‘You sing well, Gerald.’
‘Thank you. Perhaps when we are married you could give me a few tips on how to improve my performance. Shall we rejoin the others?’ He came towards me.
I slipped my hand through his arm and held it, lightly. ‘When we are married’, he had said; I was reassured: he was not angry with me. I sat watching him as he talked to Alice. How lucky I was – but I had behaved like a silly impulsive child – it was time I grew up.
Early next morning I was woken by the familiar cramping pains in my stomach. I was too ill to go down to breakfast; I lay in bed clutching my hot-water bottle and wept with pain and frustration.
It was late in the afternoon before I was well enough to get up, and I was still tired and dull at dinner that evening. Afterwards I sat in the drawing room listening as my brothers and Gerald discussed the coverts at Bessingdon, and the prospects for the shooting this season. I sat silently watching them, my twins dark-haired and dark-eyed, so different from my lover. The fine tracery of lines round his eyes was very noticeable tonight; he looked much older than my brothers. But of course, he was much older than they were. I realized with a sense of dismay that I did not even know his age, only that he had been old enough to fight in the South African War. The twins were wrangling a point between themselves so I asked abruptly, ‘Gerald, how old are you?’ As soon as I had spoken I was aghast at my temerity.
His face was surprised as he looked at me. ‘I shall be thirty-seven next April, Helena. I suppose that must seem quite ancient to you.’
‘No, no – of course not…’ I stumbled over my denials, and looked desperately towards my brothers.
Robbie came swiftly to my rescue. ‘By the way, sir, I was going to ask you what you thought about the Irish affair – is there any chance of Ulster being excluded from Home Rule? After that massive gun-smuggling exploit in April it certainly looks as if the Unionists mean business.’ Gerald answered, authoritatively; my brothers listened, their faces respectful. I stayed very quiet; my tongue was so clumsy tonight, I dared not trust it again.
But as I watched them, I felt deeply grateful that my brothers were on such good terms with my betrothed. I wanted the twins to come and stay often when I was married: I would miss them so much. And I was frightened by the thought of Bessingdon; would I be able to run it to Gerald’s satisfaction? And he would surely want me to entertain big house parties as Mother did at Hatton. I thought of my mother, always so gracious and clever, arranging the day so skilfully for her guests, keeping the conversational ball bouncing lightly across her dinner table with deft pats of wit and charm – I knew I could never hope to be such a hostess. Gerald would be disappointed in me; I would fail him.
He looked across at me. Then he excused himself politely from my brothers and came over to my chair. His voice was kind. ‘You look tired, Helena, perhaps you should have an early night.’
I stood up obediently and went to Mother. She scarcely glanced up. ‘Yes, run along Helena, if you want to.’
Gerald held the door open for me. ‘Goodnight, Helena my dear.’
‘Goodnight, Gerald.’ I slipped through and heard the door close firmly behind me. I trailed slowly up the stairs to my bedroom; I felt very tired and the pad between my legs was sodden.
Next morning Mother told me that it was time we returned to Town for the remainder of the Season. She said we would travel down after the weekend, on Monday, when Gerald left. It was obvious he had already told her of his plans and I was hurt that he had not spoken to me first. But he smiled across the table. ‘Helena, your mama wishes to begin her preparations for the wedding, we shall have to discuss a date.’ My heart leapt.
After breakfast we walked down to the lower terrace and sat together in the sun. He told me Mother had talked of September – I felt a flutter of excitement – but then he said, his face grave, that he felt himself to be still in mourning – and there was Moira. So he had suggested next year – my heart sank – but Mother had insisted on December, as she wished the wedding to be at St George’s, Hanover Square – so if I were agreeable?
‘Yes, Gerald.’
‘December it is then – that should give you a chance to get your fripperies together. Where would you like to go for the wedding journey? I wondered if you’d care to revisit Germany, since you spent so long there – Munich, even – what do you say?’
‘Oh, yes please, Gerald – I should like that.’
‘Good – that seems to be all settled then.’
I asked, a little hesitantly, ‘Will you be returning to London, when we go?’
He shook his head. ‘No, there’s too much to do at Bessingdon at present.’ I felt my face fall. He smiled at me kindly. ‘But perhaps if Moira wrote to Lady Pickering, you might run up for a few days in August – would you like that? It would be very quiet.’
‘Please – oh, yes please.’
‘I’ll speak to her then. I’ll leave you now, my dear. Lord Pickering promised to take me round the farms this morning – one or two points I want to discuss with him – I’m not much of a landlord, yet.’ He stood up to go; I held out my hand but he did not see it. I turned and watched him stride up the steps: at the top he paused for a moment and waved; I waved back, then I went to look for my brothers.
The twins decided to stay in Cheshire; they said London was too hot and stuffy now. The last weekend passed very quickly. Mother had invited a party for a Saturday-to-Monday, so the house was full of guests, and she said she supposed it was time she paid off some of her arrears of hospitality to local worthies, so there were two big dinner parties. I hoped Gerald would suggest that we walked in the garden afterwards, but he did not. Mother was pleased with him, because on Saturday he gallantly engaged in conversation with the elderly vicar of Lostherne, and shouted patiently down his ear trumpet for most of the evening. On Sunday he was equally persevering with old Miss Porteous; as Gerald nodded and smiled her withered face became quite pink and animated. I loved him for his kindness, but I would have liked to walk in the garden with him again, alone.
On Monday he left before we did, for Bessingdon. He bent down and kissed my cheek, then strode off to the waiting motor. We followed two hours later. On the train to London I was desolate and tears filled my eyes – but I dared not let them spill over, or Mother would have been annoyed. Then she began to talk about bridesmaids, and I felt a little more cheerful.
Guy came round to see us at Cadogan Place that evening; I ran to him and he hugged me tightly. ‘Hearty congratters, Hellie old girl – if you couldn’t manage to fall for a Grenadier, then I suppose the Life Guards are the next best thing!’
Lance came round the next day with Pansy and their mother. While Pansy and Mrs Benson were talking to Mother he said to me quietly, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy, Helena.’
‘Thank you, Lance.’ I did not know what else to say. Then Guy joined us and they began to talk about the worsening situation in Ireland.
‘I hope we don’t get sent over there, Lance old boy – it’s going to be a nasty business. I’ve got some good friends among the Unionists – I don’t fancy having to order an attack on the streets of Belfast.’
Lance looked serious. ‘Yes, civil war’s the worst kind – they say the King’s suggesting a conference at the Palace – let’s hope it comes off.’
My thoughts drifted back to Gerald. I jumped when Lance got up to go – I had forgotten he was there.
Moira Staveley wrote to me; her words were formal, but she said she had also written to Mother, inviting us both to visit Bessingdon in August. Mother’s jaw dropped a little as she read her letter. ‘How terribly old-fashioned – luckily I’ve already made a previous engagement – Maud will think of something. I’ll write the usual platitudes and send you by yourself with Liliane. Gerald will be a pleasant enough son-in-law, but he’s not the most exciting of men. Besides, I’ve got better things to do with my time than watch you mooning round over him, Helena. Still, you’ll come to your senses soon enough once you’re married – one man’s much the same as another as a husband – providing he’s got money of course, and there’s no doubt on that score. By the way Helena, it’s time I gave you some advice. Don’t go hunting the first winter, Gerald will want an heir as soon as possible, and jumping will only joggle your insides. Besides, I’ve always held that any woman worth her salt should give her husband at least two sons before she begins to relax and enjoy herself. Remember that, Helena – I don’t want a daughter of mine to fail in her duty.’ She swept out of the room. I glared at her retreating back – how could she speak so cynically about our marriage? I loved Gerald, and I always would. And he had pledged to be faithful to me; his vow in the garden at Hatton would live in my memory for ever.
When I had calmed down I went up to my bedroom and composed a careful reply to Moira Staveley.
At the end of the week I received a letter from Gerald. I slipped it inside the breast of my blouse, and did not open it until I was alone, but it was very matter of fact. He described what he had done each day at Bessingdon; Moira had ridden round the estate with him every morning – I felt a sharp stab of jealousy, then I remembered poor Stavey and was overcome with guilt. I wrapped his letter in tissue paper and tied it up with ribbon, together with the others I had had from him. I wrote back and told him of the dinner parties and dances Mother had taken me to – I wanted to tell him I cared nothing for them, and could only think of how I loved him – but I was too shy.
Then one day Guy came round to lunch and he and Papa started to talk about the Balkans again. Apparently Austria was determined to teach Serbia a lesson after all. They became excited and forgot their lamb cutlets and began to talk of fighting. But of course Serbia was much too small to take on the Austro-Hungarian Empire – even I knew that – she would have to give in. In the afternoon Mother took me to look at monograms for my trousseau linen.
But that Sunday, Guy arrived at breakfast time, waving a copy of The Times. ‘War’s broken out in the Serb states!’ Papa was at his elbow, I heard their excited voices: ‘Russia’, ‘France’, ‘Berchtold’, ‘Von Bulow’, ‘Luxembourg – the Germans are invading Luxembourg!’
I said stupidly, ‘But the war’s in Serbia – why should the Germans invade Luxembourg?’
Guy began a long tirade about allies – Russia – the Kaiser – France. I listened bewildered as strong fingers stabbed at the maps in the newspaper.
On Bank Holiday Monday the Regatta was abandoned at Cowes, and Parliament met in the afternoon. The headlines screamed: ‘France Invaded’, ‘Germany’s Ultimatum to Belgium’. France, Belgium – but they were so near!
On Tuesday morning I was playing the piano in the morning room when the footman threw open the door: ‘Lord Staveley, my lady.’ It was Gerald. I jumped up and ran to him. He caught me to him in a quick hug, then set me to one side and began to stride up and down the room; his eyes were shining, his face glowing – I had never seen him so excited.
‘It’s war, Helena – it must come. We can’t stand aside now, our very honour is at stake. I’ve seen old Birch – I’ll be back in uniform this afternoon.’ He threw back his head and laughed with joy.
I was in a turmoil. I saw Gerald, Gerald in his red tunic and gleaming breastplate, thundering into battle with the white plume on his helmet streaming out in the wind, his sword shining in the sun – and excitement coursed through me. But then, from long ago came the words: ‘Hellie – Jem’s dead’, and fear closed my throat. And as I stood dumb he bent down and kissed me quickly and turned away, calling his farewells as he left.
All day I waited apprehensively – surely something would be done, somebody would act? But it was too late; by the afternoon the newsboys were shouting in the streets: ‘British Ultimatum to Germany – War at Midnight!’
I went to bed early that night, and hid my head under the covers. First thing next morning I sent Liliane down for the paper. I opened it with shaking hands and read the stark black capitals:
WAR DECLARED
I handed the paper back to Liliane and went over to the little heap of elegant embroidered monogram patterns on my bureau. I carefully wrapped them in tissue paper before I put them in the back of the drawer and pushed it shut. It closed with a soft decisive click.